


Come Away Little Child

by FaerieChild



Category: Lord John Series - Diana Gabaldon, Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Parent-Child Relationship, child separation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28034340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaerieChild/pseuds/FaerieChild
Summary: A canon-compliant/canon divergence fic set in the Outlander universe. Not long after his marriage to Isobel Dunsany, Lord John Grey is despatched abroad for an extended time. Unbeknownst to him Isobel was with child when he left. Unfortunately Isobel’s mental health starts to deteriorate and as head of the family, Hal Grey is only too prepared to take matters into his own hands.
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser, Hal Grey/Minerva Grey, Isobel Dunsany/Lord John Grey, Jamie Fraser/Lord John Grey
Comments: 17
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic blossomed out of a brainstorming session with the wonderful MisstressPandora. The intention is that the story stands alone, but also (hopefully) fits seamlessly into gaps in the canon texts.
> 
> The story deal with some pretty heavy subjects. I have done my best to try and treat these issues with sensitivity and tag appropriately. However, please be aware that this this story touches on issues around post-partum depression and child separation.
> 
> The title is inspired by the well known poem The Stolen Child by WB Yeats.

Chapter 1

It was a miserable cold, damp day in the North of England. The days had started becoming marginally longer but by imperceptible margins. It felt like there had been weeks of sleet and wet snow and a damp cold that lingered in your bones. Isobel’s in-laws had been against her coming back to Helwater for her confinement. John was away and as yet unaware of his wife being with child. Their polite and slightly-strained letters back and forth a reflection of the difficult circumstance in which they had parted.

By the window, Isobel’s sister-in-law Minnie looked with concern at the damp weather outside and came to put another log on the fire. Isobel lost sight of her as the next contraction hit and her eyes squeezed together as the pain swept in waves through her body. A female servant who doubled up as the local midwife assured Isobel she was doing just fine. Isobel’s panicked eyes shot to Minnie who gave her sister-in-law a reassuring smile as best she could. The truth was, it wasn’t the physical aspect of the birth that Minnie was so worried about. By all accounts the baby appeared to be in the correct position and things were progressing as everyone expected. It was Isobel’s mind that worried Minnie.

In the bed Isobel’s thoughts bounced from the baby to Minnie to the midwife to her husband, John, and their strained parting six months before.

That strained final dinner before John’s departure the next morning.

Isobel could still recall the sound of John’s cutlery against his plate echoing in the emptiness of their London townhouse. Isobel had had no illusions that she was marrying for love. She was marrying for personal security and for the sake of her parents in their old age and infirmity. John was a long standing family friend who was aware of their family’s troubled history. He was a responsible stepfather to William - although Isobel struggled to understand why he felt quite so attached to her nephew. Perhaps it was simply a yearning for children of his own, a subject he had mentioned on more than one occasion.

There had been but one awkward and strained attempt to consummate their union. It had been Isobel who initiated it some weeks into their polite and distant nightly ritual of a quiet dinner and separate rooms. It was after all what marriage was supposed to be about and her husband was handsome and kind. Why would they not want to at least attempt marital relations?

The encounter had hardly been the stuff of Pamela.

The darkness of the day outside, the low and looming winter light that barely seeped through heavy leaden clouds did little to pierce Isobel’s low mood and fragile mental state. Isobel was not unaware that her head had not been in a good place lately. Coming to Helwater had seemed like a good idea at the time. Without William there as a distraction however, Isobel had found her mother difficult and clingy and eventually used some of the money John gave her to rent a small but respectable property in town so that she had some space of her own.

London had not been what Isobel expected it to be. Although considered well to do in her own neighbourhood, Isobel had been hurt to discover she was considered parochial and a subject of some amusement in polite society in London. Attempts to connect with other ladies in church or local societies had come to naught and John as it turned out did not in fact have a particularly large social circle in London. The purchase of a London townhouse had been John’s idea, following in his brother’s footsteps. Before their marriage even he had proposed the idea to Isobel and explained the logic. Isobel would be closer to London society and John’s family when John was away from home. Some of the best schools were in London and John intended William might attend a good school where he would have the structure and activity that would best suit such an active child. It would be a new start for all of them, as a family. William could board if it suited him, or attend day school. Although John despised the notion of boarding he could imagine William rather liking the adventure and as much as she loved her nephew, Isobel had been in agreement that the structure and routine of school would be to William’s benefit.

Isobel had been under no illusions that theirs was a marriage of convenience. But she had been ready to make her own way in the world, to stretch her wings and see new places and make new acquaintances. Any foibles or unfortunate misjudgements of the past were now in the past and she had come to London eager for all of the new things she would find there. Especially with such a kind and agreeable husband by her side. John might not be someone for whom her heart swelled and beat faster but he was generous and gentle and treated her well.

Optimism had been her downfall.

Gradually, week by week, the shine came off. John clearly had no idea what to do with a wife. He spent much of his day at his brother’s house or at his club or engaged in what he vaguely referred to as ‘work’. He had all the time in the world for William and all the politeness in the world for Isobel. John it turned out was rather hopeless at introducing his new wife to London society and the most obvious route in was via his mother Benedicta who was actually rather terrifying. Instead of pursuing the introductions Benedicta suggested, Isobel sought to carve her own way through John’s military colleagues and through their local church and society events. But London society was not what Isobel had hoped it would be. People in her rung of society were, as it turned out, vain and foppish and quick to deride anything they saw as parochial.

First it was her out of date clothes, which John was quick to remedy and assured her to pay no mind to such people.

Then it was her accent, being apparently a matter of some amusement to one particular lady who looked like she might die of laughter at the apparently ridiculous notion of Isobel being presented at court with such a manner of speech. John’s own accent was indeed far more ‘received’ than her own was after her country education but it was something Isobel could hardly help and she was far from being unique. Still, the teases and taunts and jokes behind her back did little to engender any feeling of warmth towards her fellows.

Already feeling on the back foot, she had stumbled yet further when repeatedly asked about her connections in London and foundered. The disdainful smiles and rolling eyes were barely hidden. Her intelligence, her book learning, her accomplishments in music and drawing were apparently for naught in the face of a complete lack of connections.

When it came to the subject of her family, the usually polite enquiries withered into pity as Isobel explained that no her brother had sadly passed away some years before as had her sister some years later, and her father was quite unwell in his infirmity. A small, sickly family visited often by misfortune - Isobel could see it on their faces and quickly learned to talk around the subject as much as possible.

And when Isobel decided she had had quite enough it appeared that London society had in fact not quite had its fill of her. William’s title and wealth stood before him and Isobel hoped he would never know of the string of unsuitable girls paraded before her at parks and morning calls by their mothers in the hopes of an introduction to the boy. Whatever ill fortune had befallen Isobel’s family, at least she and her sister had been spared that particular indignity.

When William was home he and John would fence and play and go over to Hal’s house to visit his cousins. Isobel doted on the boy but he was difficult enough as an infant. Now he was older his boisterousness and constant energy were things she found impossible to handle. Isobel was constantly fighting for patience and order as William’s temper rose again and again - quite the young Earl. At moments like that she almost missed the steadying if somewhat intimidating presence of Mackenzie.

Most of all, she missed Helwater. Isobel missed the fresh air and the views of the hills, country walks and the quiet shops in town - the tea shop, the ribbon shop and suchlike. Isobel missed her small circle of acquaintances and the slightly ragged sound of the country choir in church and the regard with which her family was held locally.

Isobel for all that she had had a sheltered and rural upbringing was quick of mind and a keen observer of her husband. There were the periodic mentions of male friends whom she was asked not to mention to Hal. There was the disastrous night of their attempt to consummate their marriage which had as far as she was aware resulted in consummation but also revealed to Isobel that her husband was not as well acquainted as she had imagined with the female form. There were subtle glances from certain men whenever they were out in society together and hands and eyes that lingered a little too long to be proper between men even of good acquaintance. And then two night before John was due to leave for work there was one incident where John arrived drunk and rather dishevelled with a man who proceeded to kiss her husband’s face off in her own front hall.

John had spotted her standing at the top of the stairs and stumbled, calling her name as the stranger kissed her husband’s neck and sought to untie his breeches and it was all John could do to try and keep the man off and bundle him back out the door.

Dinner the following night had been somewhat strained, to say the least. Isobel’s mood was sour. John was up and away in the mornings while Isobel lingered awaiting house calls that never came. Loneliness and low spirits made even the prospect of food unappetising and now in addition to her husband’s absence and with William being away at school there was John - who had always been so proper - with his own apparent indiscretion.

‘I’m sorry.’

They were at dinner in their London townhouse and John was leaving in the morning. This morning she had learned that perhaps it was not her low spirits affecting her appetite after all. Isobel’s ladies maid had initially put a skipped cycle down to the stress of the move and struggling to fit in. Now Isobel knew different and she had no idea what to do about it.

‘You have nothing to be sorry for. You promised to marry me and you married me. You promised nothing more.’

‘What happened the other night...’

‘Must we speak of this?’ Isobel asked. The child had quickened today, and still she hadn’t told him. She should tell him, her mind niggled - she should tell him before he left. Now she knew for sure. John would be blindsided. He had said he might be away for a year or more. Would he even still agree to go?

John looked like the food wasn’t settling particularly well on his stomach.

‘Dare I say it explains a few things...’

‘Isobel!’

John was not quick to his temper, but Isobel had learned there were buttons she could push. It was unkind of her, she knew but resentment was growing and her mood had been a little odd lately ate the best of times. She wondered if she had gone too far when he set down his cutlery. What did it matter if he buggered other men? Who was she going to tell? And after all, she may well never set eyes on him again after tomorrow. Isobel allowed herself a moment to wallow in the double standard for men and women in today’s world.

John let silence fall and when he was just relaxing into the quiet enough to pick up his knife and fork again. ‘There was a misunderstanding. It won’t happen again.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘There is no ‘he’. The man was drunk. I asked him to leave.’ John told himself it was not a lie as there was truth in what he said. It just wasn’t the whole truth. And the last thing John needed right now was a scandal.

Isobel finally let the matter lie. For now, at least. Loneliness and Isobel were old friends, after all. She really should tell him, Isobel thought as she watched John pick up his cutlery once more.

John changed the subject. ‘I may be gone a couple of years or more. I hope it shall not be so long but one never quite knows where matters may go.’

‘I thought you said you would be home by late summer?’

‘I had hoped to be. I had some news today that now makes that rather unlikely but I shall write to you as soon as I have news.’

Isobel crept into his room that night, the creak of the floorboards giving her away, and lay down on the other side of the bed. He woke, looking at her blearily in his nightshirt. ‘Isobel?’

She pulled the covers up, letting her hand linger for a moment.

‘Are you alright?’

She really should tell him, Isobel thought as the moonlight streamed in through the drapes and there was only the quiet noises of the night outside and the exhausted silence of two people too lonely and hurt to keep arguing any more. She really should tell him, Isobel thought. Tomorrow, perhaps. In the morning. Before he left. ‘Good night, John.’

‘Good night, Isobel.’

And then she got up and walked back to her room.

In the morning when Isobel had awoken her husband was already gone.

A paroxysm of pain tore through Isobel’s body and when it was over Minnie insisted on having a look and confirmed that the birth was close. Isobel lay back and did what she was told with little willpower left. There was only pain and exhaustion and the thoughts of her sister. When Isobel had finally told her sister-in-law at the last possible moment as she was already beginning to show, John’s older brother had actually complimented her with surprise on her good judgement at not telling John about the child before he left. His brother, Hal insisted, was already too emotional. John might even have refused to leave altogether and then where would they be? No, Hal reassured her. Isobel had done the right thing and Minnie would be sure to look after her.

Isobel had escaped London at that point and headed north to Helwater. There had followed endless months of loneliness in this interminable empty house with only the memories of John’s distance and the ringing way he laughed when that strange drunken man had kissed her husband’s neck in the hallway back in London. Isobel had struggled to manage William on her own and now that she was North his weekends home from boarding were mostly spent at Hal and Minnie’s house where his cousins could run with him and there was some semblance of order. Isobel would visit and hear about school and help him write letters to John. In quiet moments he might ask about the child with a worry in his eyes. Whatever the insensitivities of an over-active mind, William was not unaware of the fate of his mother and now seeing his Aunt expecting, Hal decided the best thing to do to soothe the boy’s mind was to have him spend less time at home. He was banned completely from telling John on the insistence that John would only worry and that would distract him and possibly endanger him. It was best for his stepfather’s welfare, Hal explained, that John not know.

When William’s spirits were low he would disappear to a local mews, either the Grey household’s stable or some of the many local lanes and side streets where the city’s horses resided. The stable hands insisted they didn’t mind and that the lad had an uncommon touch with the animals. Isobel thought of the boy and his mother and resigned herself to the possibility of dying at the end of it all. The child would never want for money, at least there was that.

Isobel called Minnie to her as the midwife took over. Giving birth was the most painful and traumatic event of her life and Minnie hushed her every time she talked of dying.

‘You’re not dying my dear. The first is always the worst. It won’t be long now.’

‘You will take care of the child, until John comes? You and Hal?’

‘What did I just say about not dying?’ Minnie soothed her. ‘Now focus on your breathing and push when the next one comes.’

It was not, as it happened, nearly over. There was another hour of pain and pushing and sweat and mucous. There was screaming and crying and then waiting for the afterbirth. After it was over Isobel had nothing left. She obeyed Minnie’s instructions to let the child suckle, allowing her sister-in-law to fuss with the child at the breast and then fell into an exhausted sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

In the days that followed the birth, Isobel waited for the world to disappear only for the world to stubbornly continue to reappear each morning. Each morning Minnie or a maid would bring in a small wriggling bag of skin and compliment it on its crying and wriggling and Isobel would do as instructed and stare at the thing and wonder where it came from. Isobel was well aware that she was supposed to feel some sort of attachment that never came. It was like looking at a creature from a novel suddenly thrust upon her. Fortunately a nursemaid was soon hired and Isobel’s body began to heal. Minnie took care of the household and Isobel lay in bed staring out the window feeling only an emptiness, a nothingness that was both vacuous and expansive. She wondered that there were people who lived in this world and felt happy. The sadness and low moods that Isobel had struggled with these last months bottomed out into a complete lack of any emotion whatsoever. At times when Minnie came into the room Isobel saw her there but viewed her with complete detachment. They thought foisting the child into her arms would help but Isobel would only stare at it until it was taken away.

Minnie prevented all visitors out of concern for Isobel’s fragile state, even her own mother, and gave little away. The birth was not announced, and when the Doctor was called he confirmed that the mother was not at all well. The child appeared well enough for now but only time would see whether it did indeed thrive.

In his study in London, Hal Grey read his wife’s latest letter with concern and at once called for a carriage to be readied. It was quite bad enough that John was as emotional as he was. Hal’s hopes that marriage would help settle him had proven to be misguided. The wife he had chosen while respectable in society’s eyes was mentally weak and even worse than John himself. Minnie’s letters spoke of a woman who was clearly not coping. Hal knew people like this and he had little hope the matter would change any time soon. There was nothing to be done for a weak mind and whatever befell the mother would inevitably befall the child - after all, these things always ran in families. Nerves. Weakness of the mind. Failure to thrive. Perhaps it was for the best that John was abroad and knew nothing.

He arrived on the street in the nearest town to the Helwater estate on a particularly wet afternoon having split the journey up from London at roadside inns. Minnie was in the front room having apparently persuaded Isobel to come down from her room. The child was in Minnie’s arms and apparently quite well. The mother on the other hand was quite another matter altogether. Isobel stared blankly into space as if nothing would touch her. There was only an expression of vacuous exhaustion on her face and a weariness at the subject of her child. Isobel’s eyes drifted towards Hal standing in the doorway but she gave no outward sign of acknowledgement of Hal’s presence. Minnie’s eyes followed Isobel’s and her eyes smiled.

‘Hal, dear! You didn’t need to come all this way.’

‘I received your letter. I was concerned.’ Hal said and Minnie could tell that his first impression of things had confirmed his own suspicions.

‘How are the children?’

‘Quite well, quite well.’ Hal stepped into the room and looked from Isobel to Minnie and back again. ‘May I talk with you for a moment?’ Hal asked his wife.

Minnie saw the worry on her husband’s face and immediately wondered what to do with the child. She passed the sleeping baby to its mother who held it as if one might hold a lump of rock and stared blankly.

Minnie stepped out of the room into the hallway with her husband and thought it best to get the first words out. ‘She isn’t well,’ Minnie explained. ‘It happens sometimes. It usually passes in the first weeks or months.’

‘Months?’ Hal demanded. He sighed heavily. ‘I was worried this would happen.’

‘Worried what would happen?’

‘The woman clearly has a natural weakness of the mind. The strains of marriage and childbirth...’ Hal glanced at the doorway. ‘Just as well John doesn’t know. He’s already too emotional. This is worse than I thought.’

Minnie wanted to disagree with her husband, but the hopeful look on Isobel’s face when Minnie re-entered the room made Minnie’s heart fall and then when she came over to check the child, Isobel’s words nearly broke Minnie’s heart. ‘Maybe its best if you and Hal take the baby for a while.’ Isobel stared at the child and then slid the babe into her sister-in-law’s arms. Minnie took the child and put it down to rest in its bassinet, telling the maid to stay in the room and keep a close eye on them both. Isobel’s empty eyes drifted out the window. Staring lifeless at the scene outside.

The moment they were alone in an upstairs bedroom Hal threw down his hat and paced across the room. ‘Don’t even think about it.’

‘I didn’t say anything.’

‘We’re in absolutely no position to take on another child. You have your own children at home who need you. William is one thing, at least he is at school most of the time. A new baby is quite another matter.’

‘Well what do you suggest we do? I can’t leave her.’

‘Well you must know you can’t stay. Minnie, you have a family in London.’

‘I am quite aware of my family Hal Grey. In case you hadn’t noticed my sister-in-law is struggling.’

‘This is beyond struggling, Minnie. The child needs moved somewhere safe.’

‘Somewhere safe?’ Minnie’s mind searched. ‘You don’t think Isobel would hurt her own baby?’

‘I take no pleasure in it but I have thought of little else the entire journey here. First there is the child’s welfare to consider. And then there is the family reputation.’ Hal’s mind went to his father and the spectacular fall from grace. It has been Hal’s life’s work to try and rescue the family’s status in society and having a woman who was out of her mind needed managed. ‘Isobel might stay here for a while, if the servants are trustworthy. I will visit the mother and explain what needs to be done. There are many quiet places in the country where women take in infants. Where a child’s needs might be properly met.’

‘Hal, you are talking about your brother’s first born child. Oh, we should never have kept this from him!’

‘Minnie you know as well as I do how emotional my brother can be and now he has married a wife whose mind has fallen apart! The woman can barely feed herself. She cannot be left in a room unattended. John isn’t here. We must think of the welfare of the child. If we cannot take it in then the child must go somewhere where its needs can be met.’

Minnie’s first thought was to ask the local nursemaid if there was a woman who might be prepared to take the child for a while. Hal almost certainly read her mind.

‘As much as I’m sure the local people have the welfare of the Dunsany family in mind, I was thinking somewhere that Isobel’s state of mind will be no concern. Somewhere a little more distant. Surely it is better for all concerned to have the child somewhere it will not place further strain our sister’s mind? Besides, the child would surely do better away from such influences as well. Bad enough such things run in families, I would rather do everything in my power to try and prevent such fate befalling another.’

Hal could see his wife swithering. Something of his argument was clearly hitting home with her and Hal worried the longer his wife was from home the more Isobel would come to rely on her presence. Another solution must be found and the sooner the better.

It took Minnie no pleasure to accept that their household was busy enough without an infant. Growing boys charging around - no their family was at a different stage in life and Minnie was much too valuable to her husband’s work to spare the time for an infant. Perhaps it was better to send the child somewhere in the country, with fresh air and a motherly woman with time on her hands who might dedicate herself to the child. Hal was right, it was not so uncommon as one might think. Still, she wondered what on earth John would say were he here. But John was not here, and would not be here for months or even years to come. It weighed heavy on her heart to keep such things from her letters but these things were matters to discuss in person and that was impossible right now.

‘Minnie I hate to be the one to bear bad news but we must both consider that something might happen to John. We are all of us aware of the dangers of our work. Even if he does come home it might be months or years from now.’

Minnie’s heat sank. ‘And if Isobel never recovers...?’

Hal reached out to grasp his wife’s hand and kissed her on the forehead. ‘Taking in a child for a few days and handing it back would be one thing,’ Hal sighed. ‘A permanent arrangement would be quite another.’

‘I suppose it would be less disruptive to the child to find somewhere it might be happy. Somewhere it might stay on if something happens, if Isobel’s mind does not improve.’

‘I think that’s sadly worth considering, yes.’ Hal Grey found a seat by the fireplace and sank into it heavily, scrubbing a hand down his face. ‘It is simply a matter of practicalities.’

‘It would need to be somewhere respectable,’ Minnie insisted. ‘Somewhere John would approve of.’

‘John doesn’t even know the child exists!’ Hal scoffed.

‘And whose fault is that?’ Minnie raised her eyebrows.

Dinner was an attempt at civility to see if it would improve Isobel’s manner but food seemed of little interest to her and the event descended into a farce of Minnie trying to persuade Isobel to eat something and Hal growing increasingly frustrated. Hal didn’t bother to withdraw and leave the ladies, there was little point. Isobel clung to a glass of brandy they hoped might put some life into her and stared at the fireplace. Upstairs the child cried and Minnie spoke to servant asking them to find the nursemaid to see to it.

‘I almost wish Mackenzie was here,’ Isobel said at one point. ‘He always knew what to do.’

Hal’s ears perked up as an idea entered his mind.

The following morning Hal was still lingering on the idea as he watched his wife rock the baby.

‘It must be somewhere John would like,’ Minnie insisted. It made her deeply uncomfortable that John had left without being told and while Minnie understood Hal’s reasoning for keeping the information from him while he was away and probably in danger, Minnie couldn’t help but feel in her gut that the man had a right to know. Whatever state things were in in his marriage to Isobel. He was, after all, still the child’s father.

‘My paramount concern is obviously for the welfare of the child and the reputation of the family, Minnie. I am head of this family. John always lets his feelings go to his head, God alone knows what he would do in the circumstances. For all I know he would fall to pieces as well just like when Hector-’ Hal cut himself off. ‘The scenes that man makes sometimes.’

‘That man is your brother and deserves a bit of kindness now and again,’ Minnie reminded her husband. ‘Perhaps there is a country vicarage somewhere. I could make enquiries.’

Hal cleared his throat. ‘Actually, Isobel put something in my mind last night when she mentioned Mackenzie.’

‘Fraser?’ Minnie’s brows furrowed and she continued to bob, trying to settle the baby. ‘His wife died, didn’t she?’

‘Yes but he has a sister with a large family and a dozen tenants, by all accounts.’

Minnie was well aware Fraser had supposedly gone back north to Scotland after finishing his parole at Helwater. She hadn’t the first idea what John would think about it, and she would have to speak to Isobel. At the very least it would ease her conscience somewhat to think that the child was going some place of which the parents would approve.

‘It wouldn’t be my first choice,’ Hal continued. ‘Apart from anything else they’re Catholic but as you say, if this is how we get Isobel’s co-operation we may have to live with it. At least they’re landed, there is that. Educated. Not much money of course but that may work to our advantage...and enough time has passed that any political indiscretions have been paid for.’ The more Hal thought about it the more he liked the idea. And the child would certainly be far enough away that John could be handled upon his return without stirring up any sort of mess that might happen if the child was boarded within an easy distance of London.

‘Well, if we’re trying to find somewhere out of the way Inverness-shire is certainly out of the way,’ Minnie nodded along. ‘I’ll need to talk to Isobel.’

Hal looked at his wife. His mind was quite made up that this was for the best but there was no dissuading Minnie from having her say.

‘Hal, about John...’

‘I don’t want to fight about John. He may not always see it but I do know whats in the best interests of this family. I’ll make sure any child of the Greys is well provided for in a respectable home. I did as much for John when our parents were unable to care for him. I will do the same for his child. Its for the best. In time perhaps, when Isobel recovers, we can reconsider.’

Three days later, Isobel stared at her baby and kissed its forehead for the last time and handed it over to Minnie. ‘And you’ll go straight to Mackenzie?’ Isobel pressed.

‘Hal is going straight up to Scotland. The nursemaid will go with him for the journey. I know its hard, but its for the best,’ Minnie assured her.

Isobel looked at her child one last time and her heart squeezed. She wished that her mind was in a better place, not this awful emptiness. Unable to get out of bed, unable to function. Unable to look after herself never mind a baby. If only she’d told John... ‘Mummy isn’t well, My Darling. Its for the best. You’ll be so happy with Mac’s family. I know you will.’ The baby opened its eyes and stared back and made a gargling noise. Isobel knew it was for the best. It was rather a relief, to have the worry off her chest. To have time to sort out her mind. To wade through the awful darkness trying to think about nappies and feeds and laundry and running a house and all those other things. How much better for the baby, Hal had pressed, and for her. Isobel supposed that he was probably right. At the very least if he was not she did not have the willpower or mental strength to argue. She laid eyes on the small pink face one last time and then Hal took the child and they were gone. The carriage rumbling along down the street outside in the pale eerie twilight before dawn.

Mackenzie, Isobel comforted herself. He would know what to do.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Lallybroch, Scotland. 17__

Janet Fraser threw the potato peelings towards the hens who immediately scrambled forwards with their voracious appetites to begin pecking away hungrily at the ready morsels of food. Her mood was sour. She and her brother had had a bitter argument the day before and she was still wrung out and weary from it. After all this time and all these years of solitude Janet had been convinced that having him settle and take a wife and make a life for himself would bring him back. But it had all fallen to pieces and now Jamie had packed his things and disappeared off to Edinburgh leaving an angry wife and distraught daughters in his wake and they were none too pleased with Jenny either, holding her accountable now for everything they expected from Jamie himself.

Jenny supposed her eldest son would probably try and go and make peace in some way. He was a better son than she deserved, that was for sure.

In the road that wound up the glen towards Lallybroch the sound of horses hooves rose up into the air. Jenny’s heart sank at the thought of redcoats coming looking again. It happened infrequently these days, much less so after Jamie’s pardon came through. Still, it was another constant worry. Inevitably her youngest son appeared in the doorway wondering at the commotion and Jenny was quick to hustle him away to tell his father.

Jenny stood where she was in her dirty kitchen apron. She had no need to make herself respectable for English soldiers. They would take her as they found her. As the party drew closer however, Jenny could see it was no redcoat party but a gentleman in a travelling cloak and a woman with him. Travellers then, and not ones she recognised. They slowed down as they approached the entrance and came into the yard to dismount.

Jenny folded her hands and watched the stranger dismount and bow. ‘His Grace the Duke of Pardloe at your service, Ma’am.’

Jenny looked at the woman still seated on her horse with her travelling cloak wrapped around her protectively. Jenny wondered what the lump was that she was hiding under there. Her eyes went back to the Duke. ‘Janet Murray, Your Grace.’ She did not welcome him, but she had lived in these parts long enough to be suspicious of strangers.

Hal Grey looked at the woman sharply and made a quick assessment of her character. This would be the sister, then. No point beating around the bush, apparently. ‘Mrs Murray - it is Mrs, I presume? I have come to speak to James Mackenzie Fraser.’

‘Well ye’ve just missed him. He set off yesterday and I don’t expect to see him again if the mood he left in is anything to go by.’

Hal’s heart sank. ‘I had important business,’ Hal told her. He looked at the nursemaid still sitting obediently on her horse. ‘But perhaps...’ At that moment the child woke up, making its presence and its hunger known. ‘It is rather a sensitive matter, you see.’

Janet looked straight over the Duke’s shoulder towards the nursemaid who untied her dress and raised the child to suckle. ‘Is it my brother’s?’

‘It is not your brother’s. The father is a mutual acquaintance from his time in England. The mother cannot cope, you see, and out of a sense of duty towards the child and its father I agreed to find somewhere suitable.’

‘Ye came to offload a bastard?’

Hal supposed that he should probably disabuse her of the notion. ‘The child is not a bastard. And I am prepared to pay handsomely.’

Jenny hesitated. The money from handing in Jamie had run out long ago and once again the estates finances were particularly precarious. The tenants mostly paid their dues in kind and there was little money to be had from the cottage industries the women tried their hands at. A bit of cloth here, a bit of whisky there.

‘Do ye not have fancy nannies and nursemaids for all that nonsense?’

Hal cleared his throat. ‘The mother’s health is fragile. Her mind,’ Hal glanced at the woman before him. Why did he feel like he was trying to talk to Minnie in a particularly difficult temperament. ‘It was felt by all concerned that it would be best for the child to be removed from such influences.’

‘And the father?’

‘The father is from home in the colonies and is liked to be for some time. Madam, the mother mentioned your brother in particular. That’s the reason I am here.’

‘Why my brother?’ Jenny watched the nursemaid finish nursing the child and raise it up to her shoulder to help get the air out of the wee bairn’s belly. It was but a month old at most, the poor mite.

‘Your brother’s time in England gained him a reputation as a man of honour, Ma’am. She hoped that he might be able to find somewhere suitably trustworthy. A respectable family, church going, educated.’

‘Aye? And how long before half the English aristocracy is at our door with all their other bairns as well?’

‘Quite the opposite, Madam. Discretion is everything, given the mother’s fragile mind. I would be in your family’s debt.’

Jenny looked at the child. It was bonnie enough, though there was indeed no likeness to Jamie. She was almost disappointed.

‘There is a generous stipend in it for the care of the child and enough for a tutor, should it come that. Obviously the child must be educated, given its station.’

Jenny’s heart sank. She would need to talk to Ian and of course as he came to mind the distinctive irregular footfall of his wooden leg came sounding across the flagstones of the yard. Her head said that this was a terrible idea. But Jamie Òg was grown and married now and his siblings would not be far behind. And there were plenty of tenants in need of an extra income. She glanced at her husband who looked with curiosity from his wife to the strange party before him.

‘His grace the Duke of Pardloe.’ Jenny announced. ‘This is Ian Murray, my husband.’

The Duke and Ian bowed politely.

Ian looked to his wife. He didn’t like the expression on her face. ‘Jenny?’

‘His Grace is looking for a respectable family to board a child.’ Jenny explained with a heaviness in her heart. ‘And he is prepared to pay handsomely. Or so he says.’

Jenny and Ian glanced at each other. They both thought this was a bad idea. But the man seemed honest enough and he wasn’t wrong - they needed the money. With a heavy heart Ian nodded his head. ‘I think his Grace had best come in.’

John Grey returned to London two years after he left on a clear, crisp late summers day. His ship had come in to Bristol and then his journey had continued on horseback back to the townhouse in London where Isobel’s irregular letters had all been addressed from. They told of gossip from church, and how William was faring, and visits to Hal and Minnie. The house was just as he remembered it. Empty and lifeless and lacking in Joy. Isobel seemed to have settled in somewhat. Fussing over William’s room and busying herself with mindless household matters.

She greeted John was a hollow smile and a kindly peck on the cheek. ‘Welcome home, Darling.’

John would have forgiven her if there was a man. Some dashing escapade as in years before when Isobel had risked her reputation. The things one did to feel alive. But there was a sadness to her now that made John stare with worry. A heaviness in her eyes she didn’t talk about. He wanted to ask and yet didn’t in case she asked back. How much of his own life did he prefer not to share. Better perhaps to settle for polite distance, for agreeable dinners and quiet evenings in the drawing room reading books. Their marriage truce.

Isobel came to his bed that night and he let her, and did his duty. He watched her sleep after, lying by her side and wondered at the change in her. Gone were the last vestiges of the flighty romantic girl. There was a woman now, with a heavy sadness in her heart. John wondered what had happened to her in the time that he was gone. Her body was different, but then so was his and since they both kept their nightshirts on and John had been so little acquainted with her to start he felt it was not his place to speak of such things out loud. Idly John wondered if he should get his hopes up until he woke to her cycle starting the next morning and removed himself to let her be.

His brother too, was being odd. There was a hesitancy in his voice, an almost-spoken thing that John observed burdened his mind. In the weeks after he arrived home John wondered what the secret was and who would speak of it first. There were too many looks, too many glances.

The secret finally came from William, one night when he was home from school for the weekend and John was tucking him in at night. He had a small carving clearly done by his own hand that he had on his bedside table. ‘What’s this for?’

‘For praying.’

‘You pray?’

‘For my mother. And for the child. Like Mac did for his family.’ William shrugged. ‘His family was gone too.’

‘What child?’

William picked up the little figure and grasped it in his hand, turning it anxiously. ‘Please don’t be angry, Papa. They asked me not to tell.’

‘Who asked you?’

‘Mama and Uncle Hal and Aunt Minnie and...all of them. They said you might get hurt.’

‘Its alright, William. I’m not angry.’ John’s heart raced. He wanted to know more, to know everything. But it wasn’t fair on William. ‘Lie down now and go to sleep.’ John smiled at his son and kissed his hair and watched him settle down in bed. When he was done John blew out the night light and left the room, his mind turning with questions.

John waited a few days, spending his time watching Isobel and thinking things over at the Beefstake Club. Many of the club’s members noted John seemed distracted. In the end John decided to speak to Minnie. He waited until he knew Hal would be out to attend to some business before making his call. Minnie seemed to know what this was about the moment she saw him.

‘I think you’d best come in, John.’

Minutes later John paced up and down unable to believe his ears. All this time, all these months and years his brother had conspired to keep the knowledge of his own child from him.

‘John, sit down.’

‘I will not sit down,’ John exclaimed. ‘There was a child? All this time and there was a child? I’m going to kill him! A child!’

‘As much as I understand the sentiment, John, I would respectfully ask that you don’t.’

‘How could she keep this from me? I know my brother but Isobel!’

‘Isobel wasn’t well. She went to Helwater as soon as she might and stayed there for her confinement. No one in London knew save us and William, and I didn’t realise her state until I went up north to aid with the birth.’

Isobel was hardly surprised to see John deck her brother the moment he walked in the door. John spent the next hours walking London’s streets to clear his head and getting nowhere. Finally tired and frustrated he returned to the townhouse to face down Isobel who fell apart before him as soon as she saw his face and John in spite of himself found his first instinct was comfort and held her in his arms. All those tears came out, the years of pain and grief and hollow empty feeling. The staff left them in the front room holding each other as John rocked his wife’s body and told her it wasn’t her fault. This was both their pain now. How could he accuse Isobel of being an unfit mother when those fears were the very cause of sending their babe from home?

It was hours later, cried out and exhausted they sat together by the fire picking at slices of cheese and ham the maids had brought. Neither of them was up to dinner.

John’s voice cracked when he opened his mouth to speak. There was but one thing he sought to know. He knew the pain now, the one that Jamie wouldn’t speak off. What it was to lose the thing you loved the most in all the world without even setting eyes on them.

‘I suppose the grave is at your family’s home?’

‘The grave?’ Isobel sat up, removing herself from John’s arms. ‘What grave?’

‘Our child’s grave,’ John explained slowly as if Isobel’s mind was once more drifting away. He searched her eyes and watched her search his in return.

‘Minnie didn’t tell you?’

‘She told me you and Hal concealed any knowledge of our child from me and I know William prays for a child that is gone...’

Isobel stared at him and as John stared back in that moment William’s father came to mind. His surly, grousing temper whenever this issue of his family came up. _‘I didn’t say that she was dead I said that she was gone.’_

Isobel’s mouth moved but no words came out. ‘You...you think...?’

‘Pray tell me what am I supposed to think?’ John snapped. ‘Dear God!’

‘I wasn’t myself, John. I couldn’t run the house. I couldn’t dress myself or eat. How was I meant to care for a baby? Minnie and Hal suggested finding somewhere. Somewhere away from the influence of my fragility. It was my suggestion they find Mackenzie. I knew your long acquaintance and I trusted him. Hal thought it for the best, he took the baby north.’

Jamie. John’s legs went out from under him. ‘Scotland...?’ John sat down. ‘Our child lives?’

‘With Mackenzie’s family. At their Estate. He was a - what do they call it? A laird. That’s the word. He always was rather noble, wasn’t he? It was over a year before I felt myself again and by that time I wasn’t sure I had the strength to go and see for myself. After one has experienced such things, one spends the rest of one’s life worried about going backwards you see and all the letters spoke so well of everything.’ Isobel looked anxiously to her husband.

John’s heart beat out of his chest. ‘There are letters?’

‘The foster parents write to Hal from time to time. Minnie reads them and shares the bits she thinks I’d like,’ Isobel smiled sadly. ‘She worries, I think. For my mind. It is hard, not to be there. But I can’t help think it is for the best. I worry constantly that I will relapse and with you still gone from home,’ Isobel shrugged sadly. ‘By all accounts there are dozens of siblings and cousins and families. Farming, hunting, fishing. They weave cloth and raise cattle and the children have a tutor...’ Isobel turned to look at John and stopped at the tears running down his face. ‘You are upset?’

‘Lallybroch. Your sent our child to Lallybroch?’

‘Do you not approve?’

John couldn’t answer. He only let out a sob and buried his face in Isobel’s breast.


	4. Chapter 4

Epilogue

It was another month before John had wound up enough business in London to go from home a while. Hal was angling to have him moved into the absent ambassador’s position in Jamaica and John wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Was it a punishment? Was it yet another attempt to further the influence of the Duke of Pardloe? Or was it simply to ward John off disrupting things in Scotland?

John and Isobel vowed to travel together. Hal was there when they left. Doing his looming thing and clearly thinking it was a bad idea. John didn’t care all that much. Even his anger towards Isobel had faded. The years and the events since they had parted had mellowed his wife and rounded off the childish edges. Isobel’s history, her sister’s death and then being far from home on her own, her loneliness and low moods and then the apparent state of her after the birth had John feeling sorry for her. There was a mutual connection now, bourne of sadness. Moments of clasped hands and leaning on each other.

The journey took days, and the poor state of the roads in Scotland had them transferring from coach to horseback at the Highland line. John’s military connections helped them pass through safely as far as Loch Ness where they continued on, following the lochside before heading west up Strathglass.

Jamie’s neck of the woods was idyllic. John snorted, of course it was. Rather modest by southern standards but solid and well built with the fertile lands of the wide valley all farmed with potatoes and vegetables and cattle on the hills. Everywhere there were the small dark cottages of the people with smoke seeping through the thatch and the D-shaped kale patches around their homes. It was a Sunday, and in the small town of Broch Mordha they turned up in time for church. John wasn’t Catholic but still they went, watching from the back pew as Isobel pointed to the large extended family at the front of the church and the many, many children all struggling to sit still.

Jamie’s sister and her husband. Their eldest son and daughter, their spouses and a gaggle of children. Then there were younger siblings and in-laws and in-laws younger siblings and tenants and their families. All respectably dressed, upstanding sort of people. A strapping young man, almost the height of his uncle and clearly used to hard work and labour took pride of place at the end of the front pew in full view of the church. There was an older child by his side old enough tobe getting into proper clothes and a younger one with a handsome face and happy eyes growing quickly out of the ubiquitous white dress of infancy.

John’s eyes gravitated towards the babe and he let out a gasp.

In a discontented moment halfway through the service the child’s mother excused herself to the back of the church and let the babe down on the ground to toddle about as John and Isobel clasped hands mere metres away. They listened to her and not the priest as the woman spoke quiet terms of endearment and when the babe was worn out she gathered it in her arms and sang a lullaby under her breath.

_Cadal ciarach mo luren..._

He wasn’t here, of course. Jamie. As the congregation filed out John spotted the woman who must be his sister and heard her talk of Edinburgh. John and Isobel hid themselves to avoid the attention of Jamie’s family as they moved outside. Waiting their turn to leave, John and Isobel exchanged a polite word with the priest at the door about being travellers passing through.

‘We can’t go to the house can we, without revealing ourselves?’ John said.

‘I shouldn’t think so.’

‘Do you want to?’

‘I’m not sure.’

John’s eyes drifted toward the large extended family. Jamie’s sister and her husband. All their children, some of them grown and married and with children of their own and in amongst them a toddler in a white dress playing in the daisies. The shortest, oldest woman with a dark head of silvering hair and an uncompromising expression met John’s eyes across the churchyard and stared at him. She had his number, John suspected.

‘John?’ Isobel watched the scene unfold. ‘What was your childhood like?’

‘Miserable.’

Isobel nodded. ‘And what would you do to give our child a happy one? To know that they were settled, and happy, and safe - and loved.’

John thought about it. Isobel was so unhappy in London, and lonely. Hal wanted John to go to Jamaica and Isobel might follow but that was no place for a child. William was settled in school and spent the weekends with his cousins. If there had been a way to turn things back, if John had known that fateful night that Isobel had been with child he might never have left. If there had been a way to settle down, become a country squire and raise a family...But there was work and there was Isobel’s fragility. There was the pollution and stink of London, the numerous dangers and the bad air and risk of illness. There was Jamaica on the horizon. More travel, the tropics. The dangers of sea crossings, the worries of plagues and the ravages of slavery.

And then there was this. A settled, happy life with a loving family. Gaelic endearments falling from the lips of the woman Jamie’s nephew had married. John could have listened to that laughter all the rest of his days. Small pudgy arms reaching up for the butterflies that twisted and fluttered across the mossy grass.

John turned to his wife with wet eyes, glistening in the late summer sun. ‘I’d give up everything I had.’

Isobel looked at him and then at their little one, toddling in the grass and laughing like the faeries themselves. ‘I think I’d like to go now.’

John looked once more to Jamie’s sister and felt Isobel slide her hand around his arm. They watched each other for long seconds, eyes meeting, until John gave a curt nod and a grateful smile.

Across the churchyard Jenny watched the English couple turn away with long, lingering glances over their shoulders.

‘Who was that, do you think?’ Ian said, coming from talking to some neighbours to take his place at his wife’s side.

Jenny took a deep breath. ‘An English couple. Visitors, by all accounts. Passing through, or so they say.’

Iain looked at the couple curiously and then down at their son’s younger child. There was more than a passing resemblance there. Iain watched the couple arm in arm. All English accents and politeness. They seemed nice enough people. How odd, Iain thought, that they might give up their own child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ‘end titles’ music I suggest for this work is the traditional song Ca’ The Yowes collected by Robert Burns and sung by Dougie Maclean.


End file.
